


Different Strokes

by Vixen13



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Identity Reveal, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Omegaverse, Outdoor Sex, Porn With Plot, SPBB, Smut, Trope Subversion, alpha!bottom!Wade, omega!top!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 08:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17721959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen13/pseuds/Vixen13
Summary: Peter’s just trying to live his life as a normal omega — as normal as an omega can be after being bitten by a radioactive spider. What he certainly did not need while out of costume and quickly falling into heat was to run into Deadpool. Alphas usually didn’t take kindly to what happened to Peter during his unique, super-powered heats. Turns out, Deadpool is the absolute opposite of upset about it.





	Different Strokes

**Author's Note:**

> This big bang happened in the middle of a writing slump, so this was much harder to write than it had any right to be. lol I'd like to thank everyone that supported me and helped me get through not only this fic, but my slump in general, along with beta reading my mess to help clean it up (special thanks in regards to GeekMom and Nimohtar). <3
> 
> My artist for this was the lovely XxFatalBlackxX who can be found here:  
> https://xxfatalblackxx.tumblr.com/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenna4112  
> Thank you so much for your hard work!  
> (art at the end of the fic)
> 
> I also had the amazing Bamf work with me as an artist and I am SO very grateful!!!  
> https://amazing-spiderling.tumblr.com/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf  
> (art in the middle of the fic)
> 
> And thank you to the mods who worked so hard for everyone in the bang!

Peter sat back against the cushions of the plush couch in the waiting room. As far as waiting rooms went, it was a fairly nice looking one. All warm, muted colors, soft lighting, ambient music, and comfortable seating areas spread out just enough so people didn’t have to awkwardly look at one another. On one side of the room sat the sliding glass window of the receptionist desk, closed to keep the noise of the office work at bay.

In the corner beside the receptionist area was a door that lead to the back rooms of the clinic. Peter knew from experience that the halls and rooms were also set up in as inviting and relaxing a way as possible. It was likely that most people who visited the clinic would never get over their awkwardness, no matter the decor, but at least there was effort put into it. Peter was grateful for that.

About as much as he was grateful for the clinics themselves. Ever since they had first been introduced, the clinics had been booked solid. Peter had to make appointments months in advance just to get in, as all omegas did. Still, it was totally worth it.

Though suppressants had seemed like a cure all to a lot of problems, they just weren’t in the long term. They varied in effect on people, some even having severe reactions to the medication. For those on suppressants for long periods of time, it ended up having multiple side effects. Some grew immune to the drug and others grew sterile. Some would have heavy backlashes of hormones as their bodies tried to regulate.

Peter’s case was a bit more of an issue. Ever since the spider bite, his body had gone through a massive amount of changes. One of those changes caused his body to process out suppressants far faster than anyone around him. Another gave him hormones that omegas didn’t normally have. This meant Peter had to make his own form of suppressants to take, and that was no easy task.

It also meant that he could rarely force his heat to subside. It happened every month without fail, even though his body had often skipped months prior to being superpowered. Also, unlike before, Peter was rarely lucky enough to make it through his heat on suppressants alone.

Since the only other way to break a heat was with an alpha, that put Peter in a precarious position. His unique mix of hormones made him undesirable to alphas, and he didn’t want to give away the changes in his body either way. Thus, the clinics.

The first time Peter had gone to a clinic and positioned himself with his ass up in the air to be fucked by a machine, it had been mortifying. He knew that the rooms were secure and unmonitored, but that hadn’t settled his nerves much. It felt like he had been an exhibit in a zoo where people could look in and study the actions of a horny omega.

However, the alpha pheromones they pumped into the room, followed by the hormones released from the machine pumping away inside of him, and then topped off with the artificial knot that locked inside his body… The whole experience had been quick, effective, and convincing enough to his body to break the heat cycle immediately.

It was life changing, and not just to Peter, but to omegas everywhere. It allowed them to have far more domain over their bodies than ever before. They didn’t need overdoses of suppressants or demanding alphas anymore. They just needed a couple of hours to visit a clinic during their cycle.

That knowledge made the sitting room no less awkward, however, since everyone there was waiting for their turn on what was essentially a high tech fucking machine. As much as Peter would have liked to see things as clear cut and business-like, his heat was causing him to squirm in his seat. His body didn’t much care that the “alpha” was nothing but limited machine parts, it was already conditioned to know that pleasure and relief was on the way.

Peter checked his watch and started bouncing his knee with impatience. He needed a distraction and the bland, out of date magazines were no help. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through a few things, looking for anything that would keep his mind occupied and ignoring the eager warmth blooming in his gut.

The doors to the clinic swished open to admit a new person, and Peter politely kept his head down. That was, until he heard a familiar voice.

“Make way! Coming through! Emergency!”

Everyone in the sitting area gasped and tensed, a few murmuring in distress. Peter gaped at the scene before him. There Deadpool was, in full getup, guns and katanas on display, and cradling a moaning omega woman in his arms. Behind them was a harried older woman with tears in her eyes who was whispering soft and soothing words to the young woman.

“Sir! You can’t be in here. I’m calling security.” The receptionist had cracked the sliding glass just enough to be heard and was obviously terrified, but Peter had to respect how brave she was to face down the likes of a famous mercenary.

“No can do, miss!” Deadpool replied, planting his feet in front of the door to the back rooms. “This is an emergency. Buzz me through.”

“Emergencies cases must be taken to a hospital. You are putting her life in danger to—”

“Do you see this girl?” Deadpool interrupted, the white eyes of his mask narrowing in warning.

Peter took more notice. Her skin was sallow, she was sweating profusely, her eyes rolled every time she tried to open them, and her breath was fast and shallow. She was suffering from heat sickness, that much was obvious. It took a lot to get to that point, with multiple lonely heats and not enough suppressants. Peter had been on the verge of it himself multiple times. It was painful.

“If I take her to the hospital, they’re just gonna hit her with a suppressant injection. How is that gonna help?” Deadpool demanded.

“We are _not_ an emergency clinic!” The receptionist wasn’t backing down. Likely, she dealt with such demands on a regular basis, though none so threatening as the man before her. “We only have so many rooms. You will just cause a chain of more people in desperate situations. We can make an appointment, but for now, she needs a hospital.”

“Lady, you can either buzz me through and give me a room, or I’ll kick the door down myself.”

They stared each other down. The older woman who looked to be the omega’s mother started sobbing, and the tension in the room grew heavy. Deadpool wasn’t known for restraining himself, and the last thing any of the omegas in the clinic needed was a display of violence so close to their heat. Not to mention, what if the clinic was shut down after Deadpool’s display? What happened to everyone in the room then?

Peter stood up. “She can have my appointment.”

All eyes turned to stare at him. The receptionist looked displeased, like she didn’t believe in giving in to threats from pushy alphas, which Deadpool clearly was. Peter didn’t believe in it either, but he also knew the kind of destruction this particular alpha could wreak on a good day.

“It’s fine. She really shouldn’t get another suppressant in her state. I’ll just reschedule.”

“You’re a good man!” Deadpool said, voice full of approval. “I’ll pay you back.” He whipped his head around to the receptionist. “I’ll pay for his next appointment. Oh, and I’ll pay for this one along with another year’s worth and a credit for suppressant prescriptions.”

The omega’s mother sobbed when she heard all of that. The receptionist looked stunned and annoyed in turns. She spoke to a few people who were out of sight and then things got moving. Nurse techs came and took the omega back to Peter’s previously assigned room. The mother was left sobbing into Deadpool’s arms, rambling a thousand thanks. Deadpool was patting her back with one hand and pulling out a roll of hundreds from a pouch with the other.

It took some time to get the unknown omega into the system, the mother stumbling through all of the information and crying further at the cost Deadpool was easily paying for. The tension in the room never lessened for it, though curiosity grew in the eyes of those sitting perfectly still in their chairs. Peter clenched and unclenched his fists, his mind still turning over all that was happening.

It wasn’t the first time Peter had seen Deadpool attempt an act of altruism. They usually went about as poorly as this one had, if not worse. Peter wasn’t sure what qualified a person for help in Deadpool’s mind. He wasn’t sure _Deadpool_ knew the answer to that. They’d gotten in many arguments over it while Peter was in costume.

This was the first time he’d seen Deadpool while out of costume. That caused a constant low level of fear. Would his voice be recognized? They teamed up occasionally, but surely not often enough for Deadpool to peg Peter as anything other than a random civilian, right? After all, Peter had fooled his exes for a long while and they spent _way_ more time with him.

Then again, Deadpool was a mercenary by trade, so paying attention was part of the job.

Then again, it was Deadpool, and he never paid attention to anything.

“Hey!”

Peter startled and noticed the three people by the desk looking at him. “Huh?”

“The nice lady here has to pull up your account,” Deadpool said.

“Oh. Right.” Peter cautiously walked over. He didn’t particularly like that he’d have to give his information with Deadpool watching. Thankfully, the receptionist had his file out and was able to look him up based on his ID photo, which she carefully kept tilted away from prying eyes.

“I’m afraid we don’t have an open appointment before the next one you are already set for. I can add you to the cancellation list, and we can give you a call if something opens up.” The receptionist gave him a troubled smile.

“How long is the cancellation list?” Peter asked.

“There are twelve people ahead of you.”

Even if there had been nobody ahead of him, the likelihood of an appointment coming open anytime soon was low. “That’s alright. Can you just give me a refill.”

“Certainly!” She happily clacked away at her computer before frowning once more. “I’m sorry, sir, but it seems you’ve hit your prescription limit.”

Peter sighed and his shoulders sagged. Of course he had. He went through that stuff like candy. He was flagged at nearly every pharmacy now, many of them suspecting him of selling it. After all, why else would he need so much? It wasn’t like he could just up and explain his superhero circumstances.

The crying mother started to apologize profusely, but Peter waved her off, reassuring her that it was fine. Deadpool put a hefty credit into Peter’s account anyways before dropping one large, gloved hand on Peter’s shoulder with what appeared to be a smile.

“Sorry for ruinin’ your date with a very special dildo.”

Peter made a face. “It’s fine.” He gave the receptionist a bland smile. “I’ll see you next month.”

“I’ll walk you out!” Deadpool happily stated, much to everyone’s relief except Peter’s.

The mother thanked the both of them again before taking a seat and trying to compose herself. All eyes were on them as they left the clinic. The hand on Peter’s shoulder didn’t move, and he resisted the urge to shrug Deadpool off. If the man took offence, Peter would have to fight, and that would end up with a revealed identity.

“I smelled that poor girl a mile away,” Deadpool said as they walked out into the smoggy NYC air. “So did every other alpha in her radius. I can’t even _tell_ you how many bones I broke to get them to stop trying to bust down her door.”

There it was — the misguided altruism covered in violence. Peter kept his mouth shut.

“I hope I haven’t put you in the same position.”

“I’ll be fine,” Peter murmured, wondering when Deadpool was going to let him go.

“I dunno about that. You’re not completely normal, ya know.”

Peter’s steps faltered and his breathing stopped. Had Deadpool figured it out? Did he realize who Peter actually was? Every terrible scenario under the sun ran through Peter’s head rapid fire. What was he supposed to do?

Deadpool continued to drag them forward down the sidewalk, the people around them parting to give room for the walking arsenal and his seeming captive. “Don’t look so surprised. I can smell it on you. Are you a mutant? Don’t worry. I don’t judge.”

Peter sucked in a breath. So it wasn’t that Deadpool had figured out who Spider-man was, it was just that he assumed Peter was a mutant.

Wait…

Based on smell? What the hell? Peter was irrationally offended. He didn’t smell weird! “What do you mean ‘smell it?’”

With a sudden yank, he was pulled down an alley and pressed against a wall. His heart rate picked up, and his body tensed, prepared for a fight. His spidey sense never went off. That didn’t stop a trickle of fear from racing up his spine as Deadpool loomed over him. The warmth of Peter’s heat that had previously faded into the background flared to life.

“I mean you smell good, cutie,” Deadpool rumbled, his voice taking on a dark alpha tinge that Peter’s traitorous body responded to immediately. “You smell like omega, but more. You smell dominant. I’m into it.”

It wasn’t the first time Deadpool had flirted with Peter, though certainly in different circumstances. Previously, it had been annoying and occasionally rage-inducing depending on the situation. Not once had there been a time where Peter was so close to his heat, however. He knew better than to go out during those days. Not just as a Spider-man, but as Peter. When his heat took over… Well, it didn’t work like it used to.

“I should leave,” Peter said, taking deep breaths to try and control his body, but that just put more of Deadpool’s scent in his nose. It wasn’t like Deadpool ever smelled all that good, but the scent of alpha had Peter’s skin tingling.

Deadpool didn’t move and neither did Peter, though he could have ducked away at any time. Why wouldn't his limbs obey him?

“I’m sorry for making you lose your spot at the clinic.” Deadpool’s voice was still low, slowly tilting over into sensual, which was a word Peter never thought he would use to describe Deadpool. “But I could make it up to you. Just one bro helping out another bro.”

Peter would never forgive himself for his dick twitching at the sound of the word “bro.” There wasn’t much comfort in the fact that it would twitch at a stiff breeze with how worked up he was. He told himself to move, to push Deadpool away. His hands lifted, hovered over the leather-clad chest, his body burning with desire.

“Tell me what you want, hot stuff.” Though it sounded teasing enough, that edge of alpha command hovered in the words and that _thing_ inside Peter that had been changed by the spider bite flared to life.

In a surge of movement, Peter had the alpha’s back shoved up against the stained brick wall of the alley. The leather creaked from where Peter’s fists were gripping it hard enough that the slightest twitch would rip it apart. He growled, lips pulled back to show his teeth, and leaned his weight into the mercenary.

“What I want?” Peter asked, his voice foreign in its intensity. “You think you can handle that?” Alphas talked a big game, but ultimately, they didn’t like it when omegas tried to take control.

Contrastingly, Deadpool shivered and almost melted into a puddle, his previously domineering posture shrinking under the force of Peter’s hard stare. “Please…” he whispered, sounding aroused and desperate.

Peter’s senses kicked into overdrive, making him hyper aware of the people passing by on the streets around them. His instincts screamed at him to take his prey elsewhere. With great force of will, he unclenched his hands and took a step back, his movements stiff and halting. His gut felt like it was on fire, his skin already sweating, breath harsh and fast. He could feel the obvious bulge in his pants straining against the fabric.

“We can’t do this here,” Peter demanded, though more to himself than anyone else. He needed to keep control.

“Can we do it elsewhere?” Deadpool whispered, the simple question heavy with hope.

At the point Peter was at in his heat, he worried about making it home before succumbing to a bad decision. He didn’t have the money to spare on a streetwalker, and normally he’d never consider it, but it was quickly becoming a viable option in his head. _Or_ he could get some relief with someone he knew, someone he trusted enough to keep him alive in tight spots.

And apparently someone not bothered by the kind of desires Peter’s strange heat caused.

“Yeah…” Peter found himself saying before he’d even finished arguing about it in his head. “Yeah, we can—”

He was suddenly wrapped up in Deadpool’s arms, there was an odd noise, a moment of blurred color and disorientation, and then Peter’s vision was tilting as he tried to get his bearings. They were no longer out in the crowded streets and the dirty alleyway was gone. They were standing in an shabby looking loft apartment in desperate need of being cleaned.

Peter stumbled back and looked around him in confusion, one hand still gripping his still spinning head. “Where are we? And how?”

Deadpool tapped the thing strapped to his chest. “I have a teleporter when it’s convenient to the plot.”

“Right…” Peter was in no mood to even try to parse Deadpool’s weird statements. Now that they were somewhere contained, all he could think about was getting naked.

Abruptly, Deadpool hit his knees and started unbuckling Peter’s pants. A brief flash of a thought warned Peter than once his dick was out, there was no going back. Said thought was drowned under a wave of insistent lust. His heat had never come over him this fast. It almost felt like he was comfortable with his partner, causing his body to let go and accept the coming events.

But that would be silly, feeling comfortable around Deadpool.

Right?

Peter’s dick was out. It was too late to worry about this now, so he just clenched his fingers into the back of the leather mask as Deadpool nuzzled his crotch. Something bubbled up inside of Peter, something far beyond his heat. He didn’t just want to fuck, he wanted to _take_ , and it was overwhelming.

“Take this off,” Peter growled, voice brooking no argument as he tugged at Deadpool’s mask. The merc made a panicked noise and pulled back.

“Wait! We can keep it on. This should be a nice experience for—”

Peter pounced, shoving Deadpool to the ground and yanking off the mask. Unsurprisingly, the first instinct of a trained mercenary who has just been attacked was to pull out a gun and get it ready to shoot. Normally, that would have concerned Peter, but he was far past that point. He shoved his face close to Deadpool’s, uncaring of the barrel pressed to one temple.

“Don’t defy me,” Peter snarled, and then claimed Deadpool’s mouth with force.

The large alpha under him whimpered and trembled, the gun clattering to the floor an instant later. He was a puddle of red and black leather under Peter’s rigid body, happy to bow to Peter’s strange mix of dominant omega scent. It was intoxicating to experience.

When Peter pulled back, they were both breathing heavy. “I knew you were Deadpool the moment I saw you, and I knew what that meant long before I shoved you against the wall. What does that have to do with using you for my pleasure?”

Deadpool moaned, his face pulling into something part-stricken and part-aroused. “I don’t want you to fuck Deadpool,” he whispered. “I want you to fuck Wade.”

Peter wrapped his hand around broken, textured flesh, one thumb sliding ever-so-lightly along the underside of that sturdy jawline. “Then do as I say, _Wade_.”

At the sound of his name, Wade’s hips buckled up into Peter’s, grinding their painfully hard erections together. Peter growled and curled forward, desire spiking in him harsh and unyielding. His fingers tightened around Wade’s neck in warning, but that was all that was needed. In a frenzy of movement, Wade worked to strip the leather off of him without attempting to move positions.

That was probably for the best, as every instinct in Peter was screaming to keep his prey pinned so that it couldn't escape. Many times before, he’d been concerned and almost afraid of what the spider bite had done to his heats. Currently, he was unable to find it in himself to care. There was no need to worry about what Wade wanted or if he would get hurt.

Deadpool could heal whatever Spider-man threw at him.

Once skin was finally exposed, Peter’s instincts relaxed. He splayed out on top of Wade, rubbing all over the alpha’s skin, marking it, claiming it. Peter bit and nipped wherever he pleased, growling every time Wade squirmed. He wasn’t allowed to move without Peter’s explicit permission.

Wade’s fingers gripped at the floor beneath him as he struggled to contain himself. “Wh-what do you want me to do?”

“Stay still,” Peter demanded. He wished he had his webshooters so he could cocoon Wade and make sure the alpha couldn’t do anything at all, but the last smidge of Peter’s awareness knew better. Instead, he sat up and stripped off his shirt. The cool air hitting his skin was a glorious feeling.

“For a twink, you are _ripped_.” Wade whistled appreciatively.

“Call me a twink again and see what happens,” Peter growled as he yanked his pants off and tossed them across the room.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Wade advised, his eyes locked onto Peter’s weeping cock. “Holy Odin, I want that in me.”

“Not now.”

The desire to take and be fucked all at once seemed conflicting, but they truly weren’t. There was a single obvious solution. Peter grabbed Wade’s thick cock, earning a deep groan from the man. Lining it up, Peter sank down on it with ease, slick already making him sloppy and loose. They both let out a moan at the feel of it.

“ _Yes_ ,” Peter breathed, his body rejoicing over being full at long last.

“You feel so fucking good,” Wade said, one hand lifting to touch Peter’s thigh.

Baring his teeth, Peter slammed the hand back down to the floor hard enough that Wade winced. There was a pause to see if Wade would protest, but he didn’t, just apologized and stayed still. Satisfied, Peter trailed his fingers along skin until his hands were braced on Wade’s chest as he ground his hips in lazy circles so Wade’s cock could caress his insides.

“You’re mine, and you do as I say,” Peter reminded, his voice holding a hint of a purr.

“Yes, omega,” Wade said, sounding reverent as he tilted his head back and presented his neck.

“That’s a good alpha.” Peter leaned over, pressed his face into Wade’s neck, and took a deep breath of alpha scent, his tongue curling at the deep musk that filled his senses. He nipped at the scent gland as his hips gradually pulled up and slid back down, enjoying the feel of hot, _real_ flesh inside of him after so long without.

Peter’s skin was so hot and his stomach so tight. Even though his heat was melting his mind, his senses were in overdrive. He could feel every sweat drop that collected and slid along his skin. The bumps and divots of Wade were in stark relief under his thighs. He could feel the damn shape of Wade’s cock inside of him.

Their breaths and heartbeats were loud, like the pounding rhythm of music at a club. He moved to that beat, rolling forward and back, up and down, getting lost in the all encompassing feeling of it. The light around him grew too bright, the colors too vivid, and the look of bliss on Wade’s face too overwhelming.

It wasn’t long after Peter closed his eyes and lost himself to the glorious drag of cock inside of him that he felt the scratch of a finger on his knee. The barely there touch exploded in sensations as he became aware of every whorl of of scar tissue, every pore, and every drop of sweat that transferred to his skin. The heat of it. The light tremble. The increased smell of musk, arousal, and slick that the touch caused.

Peter pulled back his lips and snarled. A moment later, the finger was ripped away and Peter relaxed a tiny bit. The damage was done, his head drowning even further in his body’s swirl of hormones. He bounced his hips harder, feeling the impact rattle up his pelvis. His cock bounced, but he knew not to touch it. Not yet. It would be too much.

When his mind finally dissolved into a hazy soup of lust, then he wouldn’t mind the intensity or the touch of another person. Until then, he would take. Take and take until the edge of his need was finally dulled.

Somewhere, lost under a heavy blanket of fog, Peter considered why his heat was the strongest it had ever been. Usually, the alpha would give a single burst of scent to call an omega in heat. They would find one another, fuck, and then recover. Just one burst of scent from an alpha. It took awhile for the scent glands to fill up again…

Oh.

They both had a healing factor.

Maybe Peter should have worried about that but the bright edge of pleasure lanced through his mind. He ground his hips down, threw back his head, and jerked his hips erratically until the orgasm burst through him, bright white and intense. He spasmed around the cock inside of him, his whole body trembling with the intensity of it, and then collapsed forward onto his arms as the ripples of pleasure ran through him and faded.

He wanted more.

His eyes slit open to see Wade’s face, slack with pleasure, a little drool leaking from the corner of his lips, eyes hazy and distant. Peter looked down and saw his thighs covered in slick and cum. He couldn’t be sure how long they’d already been going or how many times Wade had orgasmed, but judging by the nail marks in the floorboards, it had been quite some time.

Peter took a moment to catch his breath before squeezing his insides and pulling a half-whimper half-moan from Wade. “Get it up. I’m not done.”

Wade made a strange gurgling noise that was likely an attempt at speech, but Peter couldn’t discern it. Not that it mattered. Wade’s spent cock was already swelling, and the scent of alpha was filling the room with musk once more. Peter’s body sang in response, his brain all but leaking out his ears.

“As a reward, you can touch my hips,” he whispered as he nuzzled against Wade’s neck and moved his hips in tiny thrusts.

His overloaded mind could no longer tell the difference between sensations anymore, so Peter no longer cared. Everything was intense. He could hear touch and taste color. May as well enjoy it.

“Keep up,” Peter purred.

“Yessir…” Wade slurred as his hips twitched up into Peter’s heat.

Peter would forgive the slip up. But only once.

Smirking, he slammed his hips down hard and started riding Wade once more, sinking his teeth into flesh and feeling the howl Wade let loose caress down the length of his spine. Honestly, why hadn’t they decided to do this sooner? Wade was the perfect prey, taken by Peter and Peter only.

“Mine,” Peter growled as he licked blood from his lips. It tasted like fireworks.

“Yours,” Wade choked, the word as soft as fleece, the submission in it palpable.

Peter closed his eyes and purred.

 

~*~

 

 

 

Waking up after a heat had never been fun for Peter. He always felt carved out and cold, aching to feel a body wrapped around him, the smell of an alpha in his lungs, and the safety of a well-built nest. That was never the case, and Peter usually refused to build a nest  when he knew that nobody but himself would be in it. Seeing an empty nest hurt in a strange way, and his warped instincts would end up ripping it apart. He simply didn’t have enough money to replace all the blankets and clothes every time it happened.

Knowing all that made his ascension into consciousness all the more surreal. He was warm and content, a low purr still rattling his chest. Squinting his eyes open, he saw a crude and haphazard mess of dirty clothes, flat pillows, and stained sheets surrounding him. Draped across his stomach, elbow bent, hand resting over his heart, was an arm.

A large, scar-covered arm.

_Shit._

He’d had sex with Deadpool. Worse, he’d shared a heat with Deadpool. Peter looked over at the window and gave up trying to guess what the position of the sun meant. They’d been fucking for a long time, that was for certain.

And at some point, Peter had finally felt satisfied and passed out. In response, Wade had gathered up every nesting item in the apartment, which was admittedly not much, and created the worst looking nest Peter had ever seen. Just looking at it made him feel… content… and satisfied… and pleased with his prey.

Peter grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t need to be thinking about Deadpool that way. Deadpool was dangerous, crazy, and—

_A really good lay._

The frustrated groan was out of him before he realized it, and Wade shuffled in response, his arm gently squeezing where it lay on Peter’s chest. Not knowing what to do, Peter froze and held his breath. How was he supposed to fix this? He didn’t even know where to start. Deadpool had just seen Peter’s crazed biology and—

“Sore?” Deadpool mumbled into the back of Peter’s neck. The deep rumble of his sleep clouded voice set Peter’s skin to tingling.

“‘M fine.” Peter let his breath out in a whoosh.

“Water‘s ‘bove your head.”

Peter looked up and saw a gallon jug of water and a half empty box of granola bars. Not the best setup for an after-heat kit, but since this hadn’t been planned and Deadpool was never usually home… _Stop acting like this is normal!_ Peter admonished himself.

But wasn’t it normal for an alpha to take care of things? Why did Peter assume Wade would be against it? Peter didn’t want to think too hard on that question because the answers contradicted so many of his expectations.

Lips brushed the back of his neck, and he repressed a shiver. “You want me to run you a bath?” Wade asked.

“A shower is fine.” Peter wasn’t sure how else to respond to that.

“Want me to wash you?” There was a mixture of perversion and reverence in Wade’s voice that did strange things to Peter’s mind.

“I can do it myself,” Peter said, strangely defensive.

Wade let out a deep, amused chuckle. “I know you can.” With a quick peck to Peter’s shoulder, Wade hopped up and walked to the bathroom. “Eat something while I get the water warmed up — if you want.”

Peter carefully sat up, his body still healing the soreness inside of him from overuse. He eyed the water for a long time before cursing himself an idiot and taking a long swig. Acting like an unsure omega in front of Deadpool would do him no favors, so Peter stuffed granola bars in his face and felt marginally more focused for it.

Wade walked out of the bathroom with an indulgent smile. “While you clean up, I’ll see about getting us some Chinese delivered.”

“Sure…” Peter made a beeline for the bathroom. He didn’t want to stick around any longer than he had to, but he also didn’t know how to safely tell Deadpool no.

Not that he wanted to say no. The omega in him was extremely content with the alpha he’d helped himself to. But that was thinking dangerously. The longer Peter stuck around, the higher the risk of Deadpool realizing that there were a striking amount of similarities between Peter and Spider-man.

Peter left the shower running as he dried off and headed back into the living room. Wade greeted him with a big smile and a wave to the back of his couch where Peter’s clothes were laid out. Peter gripped the towel around his waist and stared. It was so… _thoughtful._ Since when was Deadpool thoughtful?

It must have shown on Peter’s face, for Wade waggled a finger and made a disappointed tutting noise. “I’m more than just a mercenary, you know. I know how to be a decent alpha.”

“I never thought otherwise,” Peter lied.

Wade just snorted and brushed off the obvious slight to his character. “I’ll grab a shower, then. Make yourself comfortable.” He brushed the backs of his fingers along Peter’s arm as he passed, and Peter cursed himself for enjoying the casual touch.

He needed to get out. Now.

Pulling on his clothes in a hurry, Peter made his way to the window. Wade was distracted and the sound of the shower muffled things, so it was a perfect opportunity. Still, Peter paused, one hand on the window sill as he heard Wade’s happy, off key singing floating over the rushing water. A huge part of Peter demanded that he stay — with his prey, with his alpha, with his friend.

_And what happens when Deadpool knows Spider-man’s identity?_

Peter didn’t know the answer to that question, and until he did, he needed to be as far away from Wade as possible. So Peter hopped up on the window ledge and launched himself into the air. He made his way across the rooftops by jumping as far as he could, staying in the path of the wind, and touched as little as possible to make sure his tracks and scent were unable to be followed.

Guilt tugged at his stomach but he ignored it. This was the best idea. His secret identity, and his safety and all those he loved, were more important than an impulse decision to spend his heat with the world’s most talkative alpha. Deadpool would get over it, and they would both move on with their lives.

Everything would be fine.

 

~*~

 

The next time Spider-man ran across Deadpool, their interaction was decidedly normal. Nothing had really changed between them, which was good. That meant Deadpool remained oblivious to who Peter Parker really was. More than that, Wade didn’t seem all that affected by his single clandestine meeting with a strange omega. Feeling more reassured than he had in weeks, Peter put the incident from his mind.

If the sessions at the omega clinic felt annoyingly lackluster, well, Peter could deal with it.

A few months later, Peter could pretend like that night was nothing more than a distant memory. He refused to think about what happened, and it worked. It was back to business as usual. Unfortunately, business as usual meant saving the city from bad guys on a near daily basis.

A kidnapping case had brought Spider-man together with Deadpool once more. As Peter had been struggling to find information on the case, Deadpool had popped up with details, having run across some suspicious activity during a recent job he’d taken on from SHIELD.

They followed the trail for days, ending at a lot of dead ends, but unwilling to stop since time was of the essence in such cases. It was cutting into Peter’s schedule in a bad way. Spider-man was barely able to fit in patrol time, his freelance work had a lot of deadlines coming up that weren’t getting done, and he barely had enough time to sleep in between. Needless to say, he wasn’t eating well either. All that combined with his pre-heat was making him fuzzy headed and irritable.

Two days before his scheduled clinic visit, they managed to track down a lead. Peter didn’t want to waste any time. He threw Deadpool onto his back and swung to the address in question. Deadpool was absolutely elated at the ride he hadn’t had to beg for.

“Best day everrr!” Deadpool crowed as they were weightless for a moment at the apex of a swing.

“You better earn this ride by behaving,” Spider-man warned.

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Honestly, Peter should have known better. The moment they landed on the run-down apartment building, Deadpool was leaping down the stairwell, running through the halls, and kicking in doors. On the upside, he found the right apartment — eventually. On the down side, all of the noise had clued the kidnapper in, and he had a shotgun waiting when his door was kicked down.

Deadpool crashed through the door on the other side of the hallway in a pile of limbs, splinters, and birdshot. People were screaming and running. The kidnapper ran back inside, making a beeline for the fire escape. Spider-man let out a long suffering sigh.

Jumping over the panicked apartment dwellers, he webbed up the gun, then the kidnapper, and hung him from the ceiling. A quick search of the place found three victims that he immediately freed from their confines. He herded them all into the living room and wrapped them in blankets. Next, he called the police and explained the situation. They’d be arriving in a matter of minutes, having already been alerted due to the shotgun blast.

It was all wrapped up in under ten minutes. He could be productive when pressed for time.

He checked his phone after hanging up with the cops. Just after midnight. If he made it home soon, he could finish up that article he was writing, get a shower, wolf down a sandwich, and hopefully get enough sleep to not trigger his heat before he made it to the clinic the next day. He sighed. Being an omega was a pain in the ass.

Picking his way over the debris, Peter walked into the apartment where Deadpool was still sprawled out on the floor. He had already healed over, but he was covered in cats. Actually, it wasn’t just him covered in cats, the whole apartment was. It was a serious hoarder situation. Peter sent a text to someone he knew at the ASPCA.

“It’s licking me,” Deadpool wheezed.

Peter looked down and noticed multiple cats licking at Deadpool’s suit and rubbing their faces all over it. Probably something to do with the leather and who knew how many leftover food stains. One of the cats was using a leg as an impromptu scratching post.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked as Deadpool continued to lie there for no apparent reason.

“Cats are my greatest weakness,” Deadpool replied with over the top dramatics.

Peter sighed a ran a hand down his face. “I don’t have time for this.”

Deadpool reached out in panic. “Don’t leave me here! I’ll drown!”

“In what?”

“Cat spit!”

“Oh for the love of…” Peter walked over and started shooing cats away with his foot, picking up a few of the more stubborn ones and tossing them away from the shattered pieces of door. He was clawed at repetitively for his efforts. “Next time, I’m leaving you to drown.”

“My hero!” Deadpool cried as he clambered to his feet and attempted to leap into Spider-man’s arms.

Peter sidestepped with a solid, “No!” Deadpool flailed as he caught his balance and Peter headed back out into the hallway where cats were escaping left and right. “I hear sirens. We should head out.”

“Can I get a ride back?”

“No, you don’t deserve it.”

“But Spideyyy!”

“No means no. Learn your lesson.”

They headed to the rooftop and watched as the victims were brought out into the parking lot and the culprit was taken away in cuffs. It was all wrapped up nice and neat. There was even a van that had pulled up with a collection of cat carriers. Whoever owned that apartment was in for a shock whenever they returned…

“Alright, I’m out of here.” Peter gave a brief wave before hopping over to the next roof and looking around for the best route home.

“Wait! What about celebratory tacos?” Deadpool called as he followed after, hopping roofs nearly as easily as Peter was.

“No time tonight.”

“I can help you sew it up, though!”

Peter paused with his hand out and looked over at Deadpool. “What?”

“You’re going to fix your suit, right?” Deadpool pointed at Spider-man’s arm. “I’ve got a sewing kit in my pouch.”

Looking down, Peter saw a long, thin cut near the elbow of his suit, surrounded by smaller cuts and a few puncture holes. He dragged his thumb over it and the fabric stretched and gaped open enough to show his skin.

“Shit!” Peter sighed and dropped his head back to stare at the night sky. Those stupid cats. Couldn’t a friendly neighborhood superhero catch a break?

“I got it, I got it.” Deadpool hummed as he pulled out a small sewing kit from one of his never-ending pouches. “Gimme!” He grabbed Peter’s arm and yanked it up to his face, eyeing the rip in the fabric. He stuck his finger in and wiggled it around.

“How is that helping?” Peter snapped as he tried to yank his arm back.

He met severe resistance.

The sewing kit hit the rooftop as Deadpool’s hands wrapped around Peter’s arm in a vise-like grip and pulled it to his face, taking a deep inhale. They both stood frozen in shock for a moment, the realization of exactly what Deadpool was smelling grew in the tense silence.

“ _Shit_!” Peter breathed, with much more feeling.

He took a step back, but Deadpool followed, fingers digging painfully into skin. “It’s you.”

Peter took another step back and was followed again. He swallowed hard. “Deadpool—”

“Wade.” The whites of Deadpool’s mask were intense as hey bored into Peter. “ _Wade_.”

It was hard to describe exactly what Peter was feeling. He should be panicking at having been discovered, at his identity revealed, and he was. But he was also smugly satisfied with the fact that this alpha he had claimed was still obsessed with him. Above it all, the predator in Peter was more than happy to sink its teeth into Wade over and over again — his willing prey.

“I…” Peter sucked in air. His head was a mess. Conflicting emotions mixed with too little sleep left him paralyzed, unsure of what his next action should even be. What was the right thing to say?

“Why did you leave?” Wade demanded, equal parts angry and desperate. “I did everything right!”

“You did.” Peter wasn’t sure why he said it. He could have— _should_ have lied. He should act like he didn’t know what was going on. Tried to lead Wade to believe that there were two strange smelling omegas in the city. It was NYC, after all. Anything was possible.

But something deep within Peter didn’t want Wade seeking out some other omega. Wade had been an exceptional heat partner. A servicing alpha. And delicious prey.

“I’ll be good,” Wade begged. “I’ll listen.”

“You didn’t just now,” Peter reminded, voice dark and disapproving.

Wade whimpered — _whimpered_ — and it sent a static rush of excitement over Peter’s skin. His teeth practically ached with the need to bite more pitiful noises out of his submissive little alpha.

Peter shook his head. _No, he’s not… He’s not my alpha._

“But you’re _him_!” Wade raged, stomping his foot like a belligerent child, which was dangerous considering the amount of firepower the man was packing. “You can’t just be _Spidey_ , the most perfect person in the world, and _him_ , the most perfect omega to ever exist!”

The urge to purr was strong, and Peter had to squash it down with all the willpower he possessed. “You’re unpredictable and volatile.” He wasn’t sure if he was saying that to Deadpool or reminding himself.

Wade hit his knees and pressed his nose against Peter’s wrist, rubbing his face all over it, though it did little to mark it through his mask and Peter’s suit. “I’ll do whatever you want. Anything. Everything. I’ll do it.”

Peter’s mind felt numb and fuzzy along the edges. Hearing that, seeing the big alpha submit himself, it was intoxicating. His instincts were blaring, crawling steadily over his paranoid logic and eating away his doubts.

After all, this was _his_ alpha. His perfect prey that did exactly as told. If he demanded, the order would obeyed. Why would he doubt that? If he was defied, he would teach his prey a lesson not soon forgotten. But that wouldn’t happen because his prey _needed_ what he had to give.

Peter’s hand wrapped around Wade’s throat. He bent over and yanked the alpha forward, bringing their masked faces close to one another. They were both breathing fast and heavy, though certainly for different reasons.

“You’ll do what I want?” Peter asked, the dark smile on his lips was hidden by the fabric over his face, which was slowly starting to feel tight and suffocating.

“Yes,” Wade breathed, his voice already sounding wrecked. “Please.”

“You think you can handle me?”

“Please, omega!”

“Prove it,” Peter growled and shoved Wade backwards to sprawl across the cement. “Strip.”

Time stopped as the order sank into Wade’s brain. He didn’t have long to analyze the fact that the order was a test. Wade had to give up his weapons, had to bare his skin to the open air of the city, had to choose obedience over his own inner thoughts and compulsions. They stared at one another, the choice hanging heavy in the silence, powerful enough to change everything between them.

Peter took a breath.

Wade’s katanas clattered onto the rooftop.

Bits and pieces of Deadpool’s costume were being tossed everywhere in his haste to undress. Peter stood tall, towering over the alpha and breathing the cool night air through parted lips. Excitement and desire quivered inside of him. The world narrowed to just the two of them: predator and willing prey.

Before Wade could even take a moment to declare his obedient nudity, Peter was demanding more. “Prepare your ass.”

Alphas didn’t produce slick, and Peter wanted to know what Wade would do given the situation. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Wade carried packets of lube in his utility pouches, but it was. He was always defying Peter’s expectation of how an alpha would act. As Wade eagerly coated his fingers and his insides, Peter grew more pleased and aroused.

What an docile little alpha.

“Look at you,” Peter mused, voice heavy with lust. “So eager to spread yourself for me.”

Wade moaned and stretched his fingers inside with a hiss. Peter smirked and stalked around his prey, watching Wade’s muscles bunch and slide under broken skin as the alpha knelt on the pavement, desperately thrusting fingers inside himself.

“You’re exactly as an alpha should be — obedient, submissive, eager to take my cock.”

“Yes, omega,” Wade all but whined, bending over further and tilting his head to the side to bare his neck.

Peter paused and pressed one foot between Wade’s shoulder blades to push the alpha further down, face scraping the unforgiving concrete, ass high to reveal the now dripping and twitching hole to the surrounding rooftops.

“You look so good prostrated like this,” Peter praised.

“Thank you, omega,” Wade breathed, his body shivering, his fingers still stretching and fucking himself.

“What do you want?” Peter asked as he made another circuit around the debased form at his feet.

“I want to please you.”

Peter hummed, his gut feeling warm with arousal and satisfaction. “That means you have to be a good alpha.”

“I’ll be good!”

“Good alphas are always obedient. Good alphas are happy to be devoured. Is that what you want?”

Wade shivered so hard it rattled his teeth, a deep moan filling the air around him. His alpha pheromones were pouring off of him in waves, causing Peter’s already fuzzy mind to sink further and further into his base instincts.

He couldn’t remember why he’d ever left his alpha in the first place. All he knew was that Wade was never allowed to be anyone’s prey but Peter’s ever again.

“Please, omega,” Wade whined. “I need it. I’ll be so good.”

Peter pulled his mask up over his nose, taking a deep breath of the night air and Wade’s alpha scent, so heavy he could taste it. Kicking away Wade’s hand, Peter dropped to his knees, pulled out his cock, and filled Wade up in a single hard thrust that had the alpha howling with relief.

“Mine,” Peter growled before setting a punishing pace. Wade could heal a lot, which meant Peter would have to work hard to leave the memory of his cock inside his alpha. Just enough to be sore. Just enough to feel empty and forlorn without it.

“Yours!” Wade responded between loud cries that were punched out of him by Peter’s thrusts.

Bending over, Peter sank his teeth into Wade’s neck, biting hard enough to taste blood. His fingers dug bruises into Wade’s sides, his hips a blur of movement. Wade writhed, screamed, and rutted in return, lost in the blissful pleasure of being taken so thoroughly. Peter felt his thoughts slip away into a pool of desire, his release swelling over him in mind numbing pleasure.

That was fine. He’d paint the inside of his alpha with his seed over and over again, as many times as he pleased. Fill the alpha up. Break the prey down. Make the man beg for more.

And Wade would do so, willingly, happily.

It felt like bliss, taking and marking, owning and consuming. This was what Peter had been missing, what the spider bite had been demanding of him for so long. And all along, all that he’d ever needed was Wade.

He should trust in his instincts more often.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Art masterpost:  
> https://amazing-spiderling.tumblr.com/post/182951886575/hey-i-just-wanted-to-share-some-art-i-did-inspired
> 
> http://thatvixenchick.tumblr.com  
> https://twitter.com/The_Vixen13 (nsfw)  
> So by popular request, my cats have their own tumblr now. https://vixen13scats.tumblr.com/


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